


An Uneasy Arrangement

by DragonMaster65 (firelord65)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fire Lord Iroh, Handfasting, POV Alternating, political machinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/DragonMaster65
Summary: An arranged marriage has been set up between the young prince of the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe Chief's daughter. It's all very political and all very practical, especially under the guidance of the apparently reformed Dragon of the West acting as Fire Lord. But Katara doesn't trust that all is as it seems and has to decide if she can trust her husband-to-be to side with her over his own family when there is a plot to overtake the throne by force once the two are wed.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73
Collections: Fic In A Box





	An Uneasy Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/gifts).



Zuko shifted uncomfortably on his chair. He lifted his hand gingerly to prod at his hair only to have it smacked down by Lo. “Don’t touch,” she snapped as she continued to sweep the strands into a tight topknot. Zuko winced but he dutifully did not move. Li was laying out the array of accoutrements on the desk in front of them that he would be expected to wear along with the stiff regalia that he had been pressed into. 

“This is entirely a formality,” Zuko huffed under his breath. “Why are we going through so much trouble?”

Li clicked her tongue. Lo regarded Zuko sharply in the mirror. “Of course it’s a formality. Affairs of the state always are. Do you really think that a marriage alliance should be performed casually? Bah!”

“There’s no meaning to it if we do not follow through with all of the ceremony that we have agreed to,” Li picked up after her sister. Zuko scowled. They were right, both of them. Of course they were. It just didn’t seem fair that his uncle’s politics had to put him through so much personal grief. 

He squirmed in his seat but otherwise allowed the two women to fiddle and finesse his appearance to what they deemed acceptable status. The groom had a duty to not look too shabby next to his bride. That was the bare minimum he was expected to meet. 

“I don’t have to wear all of that now, do I?” he asked when Li let out a final satisfied huff. 

Lo shook her head firmly. “There is still the morning meal with the family heads. Which you will be late for if you don’t leave now. If you had sat still, my sister would have been finished on time,” she scolded. 

They ushered him out cackling in that uncanny way when he scowled. “Crazy old bats,” Zuko grumbled under his breath. He hurried down the halls even as he did so. They might have been irritating, but he would much rather put up with Li and Lo’s ribbing than face the wrath of his family for showing up late to his own celebration. 

Pausing in the hall, Zuko ran a hand gingerly along Li’s handiwork on his hair. Not a single wisp was out of place and the golden flame stood proudly at the base of his topknot. He considered adjusting it to make sure it was facing straight, but too many memories of Lo’s bamboo fan across his knuckles stayed his hand.

He shouldn’t be worrying this much about his own appearance. It was ridiculous that anyone else was so overly concerned for the prince’s hair and attire. What did it matter what he looked like today? It was a political affair. The only thing that mattered was that he did not offend the opposing family and learn to live with his bride to be. Simple. 

He peered around the doorframe to try and check who had already arrived. The wide dining hall of the Fire Lord was packed with bodies. A sea of burgundy, gold, and red filled one half of the hall. The Fire Lord’s family might not have been large, but the extended court of the nation would have wormed their way into the festivities to try and prove their favor with the reigning Fire Lord. Zuko made a face as he spotted familiar scribes and local - as well as not so local - governors all who certainly couldn’t care less about the prince’s nuptials. 

What was of greater interest was the left-hand side of the room. Here, Zuko raked his eyes over unfamiliar regalia and the heavy, embellished attire of his bride’s attendants. The crisp blues, whites, and blacks did not blend into the background of the room like much of the Fire Nation side did. The thick furs especially stood out, especially given the sweltering heat that would come in a few short hours at midday. 

Zuko was still not used to seeing members of the Water Tribe without their heavy war paints. He wasn’t so rude as to stare as some of the serving staff were doing through their sleeves or behind the screens that blocked the hidden pathways, but he did still marvel at how very different they presented themselves as compared to the Fire Nation citizens that Zuko saw day in and out. 

“You know that you’re supposed to be inside already, don’t you?” a low voice drawled behind Zuko. He swallowed the irritable response he was about to let loose and turned to face the speaker. Mai had herself draped against one of the hallway pillars, a fan in one hand and a scowl on her face. 

Zuko struggled to compose his face into any one expression. “What are you doing here?” he blurted out eventually. His sister’s friends certainly weren’t an unusual sight in the palace, but typically if there was something serious going on then their father was quick to dismiss both of them. 

Mai cocked an eyebrow and folded the fan shut with a flick of her wrist. “Apparently I’m not here to wish a friend good luck,” she replied bitterly. Inclining her head towards the dining hall she added, “My family was invited. Something about an apology since they are being asked to vacate their positions in the colonies.” 

He realized that he had stuck his foot in his mouth. Mai had a sharp tongue but she had always been more or less decent to Zuko. “I heard about that. How are you guys handling that?” Zuko said in an attempt to salvage something of a civil moment here. He should have recognized Mai’s parents in the crowd inside. He had been distracted. 

“What’s there to handle?” Mai replied. “Father’s throwing a fit - not that it will do anything - and Mother couldn’t be happier. We’re back home according to her.” She pushed off from the column and strode past Zuko to peer into the hall. 

“How long are you planning on avoiding the inevitable?” she asked. 

Zuko grimaced. “It wasn’t really intentional,” he admitted. “Just lost track of time.”

“Ah, so now that you’re late, you’re stuck,” Mai said. She stuck her fan into her belt and extended her arm. “Here,” she offered. 

He stared down at it, confused. “What?” 

She rolled her eyes and moved him till he had an arm looped around hers. “You’re kindly escorting me in after I delayed you,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “Pick your jaw off the floor and smile. It’s your wedding day.”

* * *

At the head table, Katara felt painfully exposed. The only buffer between herself and the Fire Nation nobility was the empty chair next to her and the expanse of table in front of her. To her right sat her father, impassive and carefully composed. Further down sat her brother and a select set of the men from her father’s fleet who had drawn the short straws, she suspected, to sit up this close to the Fire Lord’s retinue. 

She took some solace in knowing that she at least wasn’t the center of the room even if she felt like the center of attention. No event could displace that honor from falling on the Fire Lord himself. Katara had schooled her expression to stop scowling every time that she turned left and spotted the golden crowns and smug bearings that they all bore. If this whole setup was intended to rebalance order and show respect to one another, why did it feel like the Southern Water Tribe was being shoved to the side? The room was more than three-quarters full of golden eyed Fire Nation citizens, the number far overtaking what had seemed at the time an impressive retinue from their tribe. 

“Ah, we can begin in earnest!” Someone called from the left side of the head table. Katara blinked when she realized it was the Fire Lord himself, standing at his chair with a positively jovial expression on his face. 

This was what Katara did not understand. She knew fundamentally that this was the man they called the Dragon of the West, a general skilled in tactics who had nearly overtaken Ba Sing Se in the Earth Kingdom after keeping it under siege for nearly two years. Yet once he had taken over the throne of the Fire Lord - going on just over five years now at this point - the war had taken a strange turn. 

The assaults stopped. When Katara’s father’s fleet sailed out from the Southern tribe, they returned within months with news of a ceasefire. Tensions continued with long stretches of time interrupted by the occasional skirmish, but overall it was strangely quiet after the uninterrupted years of war. Then, within the past year, iron Fire Nation vessels appeared once more at the Southern Water Tribe this time bearing official missives from the Fire Lord. The start of what would become the final official peace treaty between the remaining sovereign nations and the Fire Nation. 

Here now was the final piece of the agreement that the Southern Water Tribe had made: the arranged wedding between the two youth who represented, more or less, their families and their people. This was the first time that Katara had seen Fire Nation people who weren’t soldiers trawling their seas looking for an excuse to fight. She wasn’t certain still that she trusted it, but it was something. 

That was why she regarded the otherwise pleasant appearing Fire Lord with skepticism. It was all too good, wasn’t it? His sincerity didn’t ring true, not when Katara had grown up without a mother because of how strongly the Fire Nation had sought to squash any chance of rebellion. 

She missed his next speech but did not miss where most eyes in the room had wandered to. Coming in from the hall was a young man whose identity was unmistakable. Though Katara had never been introduced to him, it was obvious that this was Prince Zuko. He had a girl hanging off his arm who looked quite frankly bored to tears to be there. And across his face on one side was a dark, angry burn that climbed along into his hairline. 

Katara looked down at her hands before his eyes moved to meet hers. It wouldn’t matter much; the empty chair next to her was clear who it had been set aside for. But she didn’t want to gawk at him from across the room like the rest of the tribe was. 

It still didn’t seem fair that this was happening. It was better than the alternative of all-out war, absolutely. And Katara was resolute to do anything that she needed for the sake of the people who depended on her. She just didn’t think it was fair to be suffocating on the butterflies in her stomach of just exactly what this would mean. Six months a year with her husband here in the belly of the Fire Nation before making the trek back down home to do the same in the South Pole. 

The girl that the prince had been escorting floated off to sit with some other unamused looking people at one of the tables towards the rear of the room. Katara barely heard the scrape of the chair next to her. “I suppose this is my seat,” the prince said softly. Katara kept her gaze firmly on her plate. 

Her tongue was leaden in her mouth. She needed to say something and respond to him. But now that the task was actually ahead of her, she could hardly breathe. 

“Of course it is, Zuzu. Nice job showing up on time,” the girl to his other side sneered. Katara started. 

“ _Azula_ ,” he started to respond before getting cut off once more by the Fire Lord sonorously announcing that the meal could begin. From the sides of the room streamed in the waiting serving people, their arms laden with platters filled with foods from all across the world. Appreciative murmurs rose up as the head table was attended to first before the rest of the room slowly had their plates filled. 

Katara got to push off her introductions for a brief moment longer as she accepted or declined over a dozen different offerings from the servants. If the goal had been for the Fire Lord to show off just how opulent and plentiful his larders were, he was succeeding. Katara tried to think about how this was all for their benefit; a show of good faith that her family wasn’t marrying her off to live in squalor. Instead all she could think of was how many of the fruits, vegetables, and meats came from the still-occupied colonies in the Earth Kingdom or were bought with money stolen from decades-ago conquests across the continents. 

It wasn’t proper thinking for a wedding, but Katara wasn’t always the best at acting proper. She felt eyes on her whether from the servants doling out food or the people at the tables in front of her. Worst of all, she could feel the eyes of the prince next to her. 

She turned and finally dared to meet his gaze for the first time. 

“Hi,” he blurted out. “I’m Zuko.”

* * *

He made it through breakfast. That was the single accomplishment that Zuko could cling to. There hadn’t been an international incident and he had made it through the first meal of the day. All things considered however…

“Did you even say two words to her?” Azula pressed. They were back in the family’s set of rooms, hiding out from Li and Lo who were turning their incessant attention to detail on grooming to the most ornery of the entire family - Father. 

Zuko buried his face in his hand and grunted. “I introduced myself,” he replied. 

She chuckled - not too loudly lest they attract attention - and examined a delicately shaped nail. “Oh, I know,” she said emphatically. “But beyond that - after you introduced yourself to your future wife by saying ‘hi, I’m Zuzu’ - did you say anything else? Learn about her family? Talk about favorite foods?”

The worst thing about Azula’s ribbing besides the fact that it was incessant was that it was so on the nose. Zuko huffed under his breath and declined to answer. Azula cocked an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Can she dance? Does she know that she has to dance with the least coordinated person in the Fire Nation this evening? No, wait. Don’t tell me. It needs to be a surprise so that I can definitely enjoy that.”

Zuko glowered at her as she devolved into barely-contained giggles. “I’m glad that one of us is having a good time,” he muttered. 

“Oh, lighten up,” Azula retorted. “It can’t be that unbearable. You’re getting all of the attention for once. That must be nice, hm? I’ll expect it back of course but you should enjoy it while you can.” 

He rapped his fingers against his face, still not quite done hiding behind them. “You can have it back any time now,” Zuko said. 

She took on a more sympathetic look. “You should know that you need to get used to it. You’re a prince of the Fire Nation. Being the center of attention is going to happen sooner for you than it will me.” 

That only coaxed another grimace from him. “That won’t be for a while. Uncle isn’t going anywhere any time soon. Neither is Father,” he murmured. “I’ve got plenty of time to get used to all of this. And that assumes that Uncle wouldn’t name another heir before… well, before.” Completing that thought went somewhere darker than he wanted to go on this celebratory day. 

Azual sat up, her head cocked. “You mean no one’s told you?” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “I know it’s technically a secret still but come on, Zuko. You must have heard the rumors,” she whispered. 

He dropped his hand and furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about Azula?” Zuko asked warily. 

She glanced over her shoulder to where their father had disappeared with Li and Lo. She twitched her head in the opposite direction, into the small sitting room that they took tea with Uncle at the end of every week. She slid the door shut behind her, the paper and wood securing them in the room. 

Azula dragged him into the back corner by one of the side tables. “Uncle has already decided who his heir is going to be. He didn’t want anyone to think it was a rush decision - how could it have been after five years? But I get the concern,” Azula deflected down an idle trail of thought. 

Zuko shook his head. “Just spit it out,” he urged her. 

She looked at him, blinking owlishly. “Zuko, it’s obvious. He’s going to pick you. With you wed to one of the other nations, it’s the perfect way to prove that the Fire Nation is committed to peace. Your wedding helps, yes, but not because they’re marrying off a distant prince of the line. They’re marrying off the next Fire Lord.”

* * *

The visiting Water Tribe members had been given an entire wing of the palace for their visiting delegation. That sounded impressive - and it was; there wasn’t a single, unimpressive part of the palace, truly - but it was also rather crowded for all the people that Katara’s father had decided would serve to represent the tribe. Technically there were a good chunk of members of the Northern Tribe mixed in from the alliances made during the rebuilding that was proceeding still, but the majority of people were from the Southern Tribe. 

That was too many people that knew Katara from the earliest moments of her life. Too many overly invested tribe members who wanted to divest some piece of advice to the upcoming couple or nudge her to consider maybe one day mentioning to her father how they were continuing to help oh so much with the rebuilding efforts. Katara’s mouth hurt from smiling and she dove at the chance to slip away when she had been given the smallest opportunity. 

Sokka had covered for her, his penchant for messing with his sister giving way just briefly to the part of him that felt more than a little bad for her. “I think she was going to talk with Bato about making sure that her things all got brought up from the boats,” she heard him say boisterously through the screened walls. 

She had found one of the narrow, far less opulent corridors that the serving maids and boys scurried through to get from one task to another. Her intention had been to take a walk, catch her breath, and return to the gaggle of old women who were waiting to stitch her into her wedding attire. She hadn’t meant to meander her way out of the assigned Water Tribe halls altogether and step into one of the rooms in the main palace. 

Her curiosity only rose further as she realized it wasn’t one of the halls they had been paraded through in the past few days nor was it another section of living spaces. She was in some kind of library with shelves and shelves of scrolls all carefully arranged. Her attention was drawn first to the sheer number of scrolls - perhaps hundreds - that were stacked around the room. 

It didn't seem… Fire Nation to have this many scrolls and stories. Surely after one hundred years of fighting all their royalty cared about was strategy, tactics, and better weapons to build around their soldiers? Yet here stood evidence to the contrary. Katara wandered through the halls, her fingertips not quite touching the knobs and caps on each end. There was still the fear that if she pulled out one it would betray the illusion and the whole room.would disappear in an avalanche or as a mirage. When her footsteps took her to the end of the shelves she found herself by a series of nooks and crannies, each set with delicate lamps for closer reading and sheaths of blank vellum for making notes. 

Another door caught her notice not unlike the subtle, clearly disguised one she had snuck in through. Her curiosity not abated, Katara moved on through into what seemed to be another reading room. This one was suited for a group - perhaps four or five at most all gathered together to review documents or discussion together. A slate stood on the wall with notes half erased. Katara combed through the formal Fire Nation characters. A small smile alighted on her lips and she recognized the names and references to folks tales that it seemed every Nation told. 

Her gut was starting to twinge with guilt. Perhaps she had presumed too much about the entirety of the Fire Nation as a result of the war. Crossing her arms tightly about her, Katara hovered near the doorway of the room. At the very least this gave her some hope of civility that would continue in the coming months before she would get to return home for some time. 

Home. Her family. The wedding. 

She really shouldn’t have been skulking about in the corridors of the palace like this. Her whim to escape from the whirlwind of attention sat leaden in her belly, the main source of this fresh wave of guilt. Katara chewed on her lip and tried to reason with her surging emotions. Her eyes caught sight of another inset door. “One more then I have to go back,” she whispered firmly to herself. This was just her opportunity to familiarize herself with the palace after all. 

As she pulled open the screen door to the next room, Katara’s hand went to cover her mouth. This one was covered with pull-down rolls of maps all with heavy annotation. Spread across the center of the room on an identical table to the last room was a much more detailed chart of the seas and closest land masses to the Fire Nation. There were models scattered in clusters. Katara edged to the table and leaned down to examine them. Tiny etchings indicated ship compliments, approximate troop counts on each. 

It was a war room, no doubt. And this room unlike the previous did not have the stale air of disuse. There was a pot of ink sitting with its cap askew just next to a collection of styluses, some of which were still damp. 

Katara looked again at the models. There were smaller, white pieces clustered by the harbor that their fleet - the Southern Water Tribe - had landed in just days ago. And out by the edges of the map sat scattered markers for where Bato’s patrols still roamed. 

Footsteps sounded, far too close for Katara’s liking. She surged backwards to the door she had come through. Her heart throbbed in her chest, hard and fast. She managed to close the screened door behind her just as another opened on the opposite side of the room. 

Her hand returned to her mouth. She couldn’t stop the frantic, shallow breaths that had come with the panic of her discovery, but she could muffle the sound of them. Katara closed her eyes for good measure, just to feel better. 

From behind her, she heard voices exchanging in comfortable, casual conversation. There was no suspicion that they had nearly walked in on an intruder. “And you’re certain that after the ceremony is when he will make the announcement?” one asked. 

Another man grunted. “Those are his intentions, the fool. He doesn’t think that I’ve realized his plan - or he’s just arrogant enough to think it doesn’t matter - and he intends to act now rather than waiting for this insult of a match to delegitimize my son.”

Katara blinked and scooted closer to the wall once more. _Insult of a match?_ Was he referring to the wedding today? Realization dawned on her as Katara put together the pieces. The man spoke again. “This means that our timetable must move up as well,” he said. 

“We can’t,” the other replied. 

Something slammed into the table, rattling the tiny models. “We don’t have a choice, Zhao,” the first snarled. “I will not let my rightful place on that throne be passed over to my weakling of a son with his usurper wench.” That confirmed it for Katara. She was listening to her soon-to-be father in law, the brother of the Fire Lord, openly plotting against… something that was going to happen. Today by the sound of it.

“What troops do you have within the palace limits?” Ozai pressed. “And what of your men among the palace guard?”

Papers rustled softly. There was a pause while the other man - Zhao - considered. Katara held her breath lest she miss any clue of just what this plot was. “We had been ordered to move so many of our ships away for our visitors. But there may be enough that I can recall before the night is through,” he answered carefully. 

“Before the announcement though?” 

Another pause settled over them. Katara edged along the wall, praying that her movements were quiet enough. She wanted to hear more, but she also could feel her luck draining away. All they had to do was spy her shadow through the screened wall and realize that they weren’t as alone as they had suspected. She should have left already. 

Zhao made a noise. “Possibly. But we would have more men later, closer to the close of ceremonies when the ships we need can get into port after we get the call out. If you’re alright with some of the casualties that may come from those who will remain loyal to your brother, it would be better to do so then. And we can’t dismiss the presence of the Water Tribe,” he reasoned. 

“I am not about to start my reign by making the same mistakes that my brother has. I don’t much care what those peasants think. It’s about time that the Fire Nation retake its proper place in the world. We were so close five years ago and my foolish brother threw it all away,” Ozai said. “We’ll do it when we have the men. I don’t want another misstep.”

She had heard enough. Katara stepped carefully through the door back into the library proper and disappeared again into the servant’s halls.

* * *

Zuko took some solace that Azula’s revelation was technically only founded on rumors and a grain of salt. But not much. He knocked around in his room and further put off getting into the ceremonial outfit that he really should have already been wearing. There was still time yet, he told himself. Lots of time, really, since the breakfast had concluded while the sun was still climbing across the sky. 

The heat of midday was on them now - far too much for the ceremony that was to take place. Someone within the scribes of the Fire Nation and whatever the equivalent had been in the Water Tribe had decided that the hour just before sunset would be most auspicious for their union. The time just when the sun and moon shared the sky. And also conveniently when there would still be enough light to see without a sea of lanterns. 

Therefore Zuko felt justified to sit in his still-formal-but-more-manageable attire that he had worn to the breakfast even while Azula got changed. Their father had disappeared - presumably to escape further nitpicking by Li and Lo - leaving Zuko alone with his thoughts. 

He didn’t care for them. They were altogether too anxious, too focused on the young woman who he did not know and would now be bound with for the rest of their lives. Did she know that she was marrying the next Fire Lord? Had Zuko been the last to know? Perhaps that was why her family had agreed to it. While the Fire Nation’s war efforts had primarily been focused on the Earth Kingdom for most of Zuko’s childhood, he would be a fool to have disregarded the raids that had been successful at suppressing further rebellion from the Southern tribe. It would benefit them and their Northern cousins to have the ear of the Fire Lord to prevent further bloodshed.

That was the whole point, after all. Bring the nations together like so and muddy the lines between one and another. Zuko had learned of many examples - to much smaller extents - of how the same tactics had been used to first unify the cities and fiefdoms that would eventually form the Fire Nation. 

Inter mixed with these concerns were Azula’s comments about how little Zuko knew about his future wife. He had squandered the morning, hiding behind ceremony and his own fears without taking the opportunity to really speak with Katara. 

He stood and bounced on his heels. There still was time, now. He could make up for it and maybe assuage the fears and anxieties swirling through his gut. Zuko strode out from his room and checked for any obvious signs of Li and Lo watching for him. He could hear voices coming from Azula’s room and he sighed in relief. Explaining himself would surely lead to more mockery. 

When he made his way to the suite of rooms that had been given to the visiting Water Tribe, Zuko expected some level of distrust or skepticism from the men and women he passed by. Instead, it seemed that this morning’s meal had done its job to bridge the gap between the two opposing nations. 

A gaggle of cooing and ogling ladies opened the door when he finally got to where Katara’s family was. “She’ll just be a minute,” one of them said with a giggle. Zuko stood uncomfortably in the doorway, not comfortable accepting their offer to come and wait inside. He didn’t like the way that they all eyed him with such open curiosity. He knew that he was just as much a mystery to them as Katara was to his family, but, well, that wasn’t his priority now. 

“If it’s too much trouble, don’t bother her,” Zuko muttered, his hand going to rub the back of his neck for lack of anything else to disguise his discomfort. 

All three heads shook in near unison. “Nonsense!” one of the ladies insisted. “It’s not our place to keep you from your bride to be.”

The phrase, as always, made Zuko’s stomach flip. He concentrated on the woodwork of the doorframe rather than meet their gaze. He felt heat rising on his face the longer that he waited. Just as he had at the head table this morning, Zuko felt very much the center of attention he most certainly did not want. 

He spotted movement in the corner of his eye and returned to watching through the door. Emerging from a side room, Katara crossed the floor. She faltered when she saw him as well, a curious expression coming over her face. Zuko couldn’t discern what it meant and just as quickly it seemed that she schooled her face to be carefully neutral. 

“Hi,” he called hopefully. 

One of the ladies brought her over, a hand patting matronly around Katara’s. “We didn’t want to rush you, my dear, but your husband seems to want to steal you away for a moment,” she said cheerfully. 

“Husband to be,” one of the others corrected with a teasing tone. “You’re still unwed yet, so don’t let yourself get too caught up.” 

The pair were ushered out with further laughs and jokes about the infectiousness of young love. Zuko felt his ears burn. Katara looked rather red in the face as well, though she still looked quite uncomfortable. Zuko led them through to one of the gardens attached to the wing, feeling relieved when Katara’s expression finally broke into a small smile at the sight. 

“Everyone seems to be quite excited about the-- celebration,” Zuko said quietly. Actually saying “wedding” felt like a lot now that it was just himself and Katara for the first time. No matter how many times that it had been said about and around him, it was still surreal. 

Katara nodded. After a beat, she turned to face him. Their eyes met and held one another’s gaze. The quiet birdsong was the only sound for what felt like an eternity as Zuko struggled with what to say. 

“I thought we might want to talk before this evening,” he finally said just as Katara blurted out--

“I don’t trust your father.” 

Zuko started, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?” he managed to say. Of everything that he had mentally prepared for - her to not feel comfortable, him to say something stupid, for the whole match to feel as awkward and forced as every other arranged marriage he had seen - he was not prepared for so pointed a statement. 

Katara scowled and looked down at her wringing hands. “Your father,” she repeated in a quieter voice. “I- I overhead something. And I knew, _I knew_ , that this whole match was entirely political but I had no idea that it was so poorly arranged.” 

Stepping closer, Zuko hesitated with how to even begin to understand just what she meant. “Of course it’s political,” Zuko said slowly, “but weren’t you told? I mean, it’s for the good of the peace treaties. And that was what I wanted to talk to you, actually, because there are more moving pieces than just you and I. But I don’t understand what that has to do with my father. It’s my uncle, the Fire Lord, who arranged everything. Not my father.”

Katara gave him a meaningful look. “That’s obvious to me now. You know that we all came here in good faith. But I haven’t forgotten what the Fire Nation is truly capable of,” she retorted. Her hand went absently to her throat where a blue stone necklace was carefully tied in place. 

He reached over and touched her other hand. Katara recoiled and jabbed a finger accusingly into his chest. “And how am I supposed to know that I can trust you?”

“You’re still not making any sense to me,” Zuko insisted. He held his hands up, palms open. This was _not_ going the way that he had hoped. Katara was practically humming with fervent energy now, her blue eyes gone steely. “I know that- look, yes we haven’t exactly been the good guys for very long. But Uncle - the Fire Lord -” he corrected himself “- has been trying everything to bring us back to a place where we’re no longer ruining the lives of everyone around us.” 

Katara scowled. “And that’s how everyone wants things to be?”

Zuko flinched. “It’s not perfect, no,” he admitted. 

“Exactly,” Katara cut in. She jabbed him one more time and stalked to stand next to one of the ornamental trees in the garden. 

Exhaling slowly, Zuko let his hands drop back down again. He could easily have flown off the handle as well and let this escalate into a shouting match. But spirits that was not what he wanted for the start of his marriage to this young woman. Her accusation about his father worried him, reigniting a dark fear that he always was careful to deny regardless of the evidence. 

Ozai was not a patient, peaceful man. 

That wasn’t who Zuko wanted to be. He took another deep breath and followed Katara, this time maintaining what seemed to be a respectful distance while allowing him to keep his voice low. “I know that we’ve only just met. That can’t make any of this easy. Believe me, it isn’t easy for me either,” he admitted, “but I want to trust you. So tell me. Did my father say anything to you?

“Did he… threaten you?” Zuko choked through the words. “If he did, he’ll pay for that.” Between his clenched fists twin fire daggers burst to life. 

Katara shook her head. Her expression remained cold and closed off. “Not me, not directly.”

Zuko let the flames in his hands die out. Katara’s shoulders relaxed just at the corner of his vision. “But?” he pressed gently. 

She turned her head to face him. “If I’m making a mistake by trusting you, it isn’t just my life on the line,” Katara said stiffly. “It’s the lives of my tribe and possibly the whole world. So I’m going to ask just once and you had better tell the truth. Can I trust you, Zuko? Because it’s my life today and for the rest of our days together. That’s what we’re agreeing to today.” 

* * *

“Can I trust you? Even if it means going against your own family?” Katara’s voice shook slightly as she repeated her question, her nerves shooting through her veins. She didn’t know what to think of this young man that she was obligating herself to in the next few short hours, but she knew that once her tribe left later this month she was going to be on her own. And having Zuko by her side in more than just word would… well it could mean everything. But only if he meant it and she had no way of telling if he did. 

The golden eyed youth next to her looked as shell-shocked as she felt. It was the only thing that was telling her intuition that she was possibly not making a huge mistake by reaching out to him. Logic said that if his father was plotting somehow to bring down the Fire Lord that he could just have easily been involved as well. Yet Katara was certain that he wasn’t. 

He shook his head. “You can’t trust me,” he said. Katara’s throat tightened and her panic rose once more. 

Zuko continued, his words spilling into one another. “I mean, you have no reason to trust me. What I can say - what I am saying - is that I believe you. If you don’t trust my father because of something you overheard or just because of what the Fire Nation has done, then all I can do is try to step in and help however I can. To help you. So that you can trust me in your own time.

“I’m trusting you now so you don’t have to decide yet if you trust me,” he said finally. A weak smile flitted across his face. “If any of that made any sense,” he added weakly. 

Katara exhaled and allowed her own smile to emerge. Somehow that had been what she wanted to hear; an acknowledgement of her very real, very justifiable mistrust in the Fire Nation and a promise to stand by her even with her probably crazy accusation against his father. 

She extended her hand to take the one he had originally offered to her. “Thank you,” she murmured. Katara squeezed his hand once before releasing it. 

They stood in that silence for several long moments before Katara felt a wave of self consciousness. There were more important things to do other than standing and staring at her future husband. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she cleared her throat. “So what I heard was definitely something that was supposed to be a secret,” she explained. 

“I found a strategy room, something with troop counts and deployment locations. With even markers for where they think my tribe’s ships are down by the Pole. And it was recent, with reports and everything.”

Zuko frowned. “That seems… unusual but I suppose that the military still needs to keep an active eye on things. That is their role,” he offered slowly. 

Katara waved a hand. After she had returned to her borrowed room she had given all of that deeper thought and come to much the same conclusion. Still, it hadn’t excused what happened next. “Of course. That… I mean I don’t have to like it but that is true. But then someone came in, some people that I don’t think are using that information just to keep tabs on how the peace is continuing.”

“My father,” Zuko supplied. Katara nodded. 

“And he wasn’t alone. There was another man, someone who he called Zhao,” she explained. She watched his expression change from contemplative to scowling. It didn’t help to assuage her fears. 

Zuko exhaled slowly, his hands working at his sides before he crossed his arms roughly. “What were they talking about in there? I suppose this is what you overheard.”

“Yes,” Katara said with another nod. “They said something about our match delegitimizing you and how it wasn’t something that your uncle, the Fire Lord, was going to wait to let happen. That he was going to do something else, something they didn’t want. So they’re moving troops. Now. Today. And they’re going to try and force him, I don’t know, to not do it? That’s what I’m not sure about. But I certainly don’t trust it.” 

The rest of her fears and concerns felt flat and unfounded now that she had voiced them. Katara fidgeted with her hair again and let her eyes flick back and forth between Zuko’s face and the ground, too nervous to let him see her staring but unwilling to not see what he thought. 

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is where I share what I wanted to talk about,” he murmured, sounding deeply uncertain. 

Katara’s heart swelled in her chest. Perhaps she hadn’t overreacted. Her instincts hadn’t led her astray. “What is it?”

Zuko grimaced. “The announcement that Uncle is going to make tonight is that he’s naming me his heir. I’m going to be the next Fire Lord, not my father,” he said with a wince. 

“He can do that?” Katara said, dumbfounded. She hadn’t been certain exactly where Zuko had fallen on the line of succession - certainly the title Prince had been a giveaway that he was somewhere on there - not did she know if she had really considered this before. Knowing that their wedding was a political step for all involved was one thing. Realizing that this meant she would be a potential Water Tribe named Fire Lady and right hand of the most deadly military force in the world was another. 

She sank against the trunk of the tree, allowing it to keep her somewhat standing. “Oh,” she exhaled. The rest of the pieces she had thought she’d figured out had rearranged in her mind. “ _Oh_.” 

Ozai’s plan that required soldiers and casualties, potentially including those of the Water Tribe was going to be a coup. And the person that he wanted to eliminate would either be the current Fire Lord - and just him if his men moved in quickly enough - but if he had to, he would take out his own son as well. All to secure his own power over the throne. 

“We’re all in danger, not just your uncle,” Katara said with a gulp. 

* * *

Zuko fumed, feeling stifled by the nagging current of expectations that were pulling at him. The closer that they got to the ceremony this evening, the more that people hovered around him. He had returned Katara to her own people after their conversation, assuring her that he would be able to take the first steps they needed to by meeting with Iroh.

Normally one did not insist on an appearance with the Fire Lord, regardless of being the next heir apparent. But Zuko was never one to stand on ceremony and neither was his uncle for that matter. What kept him from fulfilling his goal was the same thing that had put him in this situation to begin with - politics. The visiting ranking members of the Water Tribe were spending the afternoon treating with the Fire Lord personally as another gesture of good will between the nations. 

He needed to get this addressed before Zhao’s men could be assembled. It was on him to stand for what his uncle expected him to, for the good of the world not just for the Fire Nation alone. That was his father’s goal and it stank with selfish desire. 

If he couldn’t find a way to bring this to Iroh to address with his father, then it would be up to Zuko to deal with him himself. 

Zuko left the empty antichamber outside of the Fire Lord’s audience hall and tried to think, for once, like his father. Where would he be? Would he have something to do for the wedding now or would he have the opportunity to wrangle any further supporters like Zhao?

He wasn’t oblivious to his father’s displeasure with the direction that the Fire Nation was going in. Now, however, it seemed a painful oversight not to have seen that displeasure from Ozai was not going to remain without festering into action. Zuko combed through his mental list of his father’s closest supporters, ignoring those who were unlikely to find an outright rebellion such as this tasteful. It really did boil down to Zhao and Ozai who had the temperament to move against the Fire Lord so publicly and potentially violently. 

That however only gave Zuko one direction to head towards. He squared his shoulders and moved purposefully through the halls until he reached where the contingent of Navy officers were holed up for the day. Typically they would be down by the barracks or, if they had one, their personal homes in the palace city. But today they were expected to be on hand for the festivities just like the visiting dignitaries. 

When he entered the room, Zuko did not relish the sets of golden eyes that all seemed to look down on him regardless of where they were. Only one woman gave a greeting before turning back to one of the others. Zuko swallowed the obvious dig and approached one of the Captains. “I’m looking for Admiral Zhao,” he barked. 

The Captain exchanged a look with the others at the table. “Don’t you have more important things to worry about than the Admiral?” he replied stiffly. 

One of the other officers - Zuko did not recognize her - made a disappointed sound through her teeth. “Don’t give him a hard time. It’s his wedding we’re all here for,” she said. Turning her attention to the prince, she pointed over her shoulder. “Zhao’s been spending a lot of time in the office, and I think that he was heading towards the rookery. Probably has to keep up on his paperwork.”

“Paperwork, that’s all the admiralty gets to do now,” the Captain snorted derisively. Zuko leveled a glare at the man but decided against giving any retort. He had a lead now. That was better than nothing. It wasn’t mere paperwork that Zhao was sending out. If Zuko caught the man now, it could all be over before there was any outright fighting. 

He gave his thanks to the table and followed where the woman had pointed to. The small office that was attached was unoccupied but a lamp still burned on the table. It hadn’t been long since the occupant left. Zuko hurried through the open air corridor between the main building of the palace to the spiral tower that housed the messenger hawks. He ignored the curious glances of the palace guards that he passed by. They had no business bothering him, not when the stakes were so important. 

Upon entering the tower, the hawks immediately called out to him. Zuko flinched at the sound - they were _loud_ birds - and then heard another sound. “Shut up!” a familiar voice shouted. He had found Zhao. 

Zuko peered along the winding stairwell that led to the upper levels of the rookery. If Zhao was sending out notices now he was definitely at the top. Zuko flexed his fingers and moved to take the steps two at a time. “Zhao!” he shouted with false confidence. “You won’t get away with this.”

As he came up to the top platform, Zuko’s nerves rattled. Zhao stood at the opposite end, working smoothly to open the next messenger hawk’s cage. He hardly seemed bothered by Zuko’s assertion. Zuko sent an arc of flame through the air with the push of his fists, separating the man from the bird. It rocketed out of the open cage, spiraling into the air without its message. The hawks around them screamed and screeched.

“You know, interfering in military business is a new low, even for a whelp like you,” Zhao sneered. He rubbed at the hand that Zuko’s blast had singed. He has stopped though, and Zuko took some relief from that. 

Zuko stepped onto the platform fully, sparing a glance over the side to the dizzying spiral down to the ground floor. “I could say the same about you. Interfering in the Fire Lord’s naming of a new heir? That’s not your purview, Zhao,” Zuko retorted. 

“No, but it is mine,” a third voice spoke. Zuko started as he realized his father had been obscured by a stack of cages and the center column of the tower. 

Zuko sank into a defensive stance, heat roiling from his hands, the precursor to full flame. “You can’t stand to see your own son being named successor over you?” Zuko spat. “How selfish.”

He moved to circle past the column, toward Zhao and his pile of scrolls. Orders to come and back up their coup, no doubt. Zuko couldn’t keep an eye on both men. Not at the same time. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, the only clue from years of honed instinct to duck down. From his blind side came a font of flames. 

Zuko flinched, bringing his hand up to cover his face reflexively. His father’s attack had missed, but he didn’t rise from the ground immediately. “And now you’re cowering like a child,” Ozai chided. “Who is the selfish one now? You think that because you’re suddenly valuable politically that means you deserve to lead this nation? The one that I have had to watch be dismantled one order to stand down at a time?” Another push of his fist sent more fire licking at the air above Zuko’s head. 

Daring to steal a glance, Zuko spied Zhao moving to the next cage. “No!” Zuko yelled, surging forward to the pile of scrolls. He had to bob and weave past two more impossibly hot bursts of flame and deflect another with his own whip of flame. Then he shoved a frantic lick of fire at the scrolls, enough to set the delicate vellum alight but not enough to dissuade Zhao’s striking fist that now collided with his face. 

Zuko dropped to one knee, stars dancing across his vision. He felt a fist grip the back of his robe and drag him to his feet bodily. Zhao slammed him into the center column, one hand taking both of Zuko’s in a bone crushing grip. “That’s enough from you, boy,” Zhao sneered. 

From here, time seemed to slow. Zuko wriggled and tried to break free, but the military man maintained a firm grasp on him. His face pressed harshly against the column, Zuko could only see with his worse eye as Ozai - his father - slowly wound around the platform to meet his gaze. “You know,” Ozai spat, “I am beginning to see that perhaps there is no value in keeping you around any further.”

Zuko thrashed once more and received a harsh backhand across his exposed face for his efforts. “I had thought when your mother ran off that she would do me the privilege of taking you with her,” Ozai continued. “But no. She left me with both of you brats. At least Azula knows her place. You have always been a disappointment. No matter how hard I tried to teach you.”

Anger flooded through Zuko, hotter even than the shame that came from his father’s words. He clenched his fists and summoned once more a pair of twin flames to burn at Zhao’s grip. It should have come to him sooner. Zuko pushed off from the column while Zhao howled, throwing his head back into the Admiral’s jaw with a satisfying crunch. His own head still spinning, Zuko dropped again to a defensive stance. 

“The only thing you taught me was that cruelty was far too easily accepted in this Nation. And that Grandfather had been right to refuse Uncle’s request to be removed from the line of ascension,” Zuko snarled. “A Fire Nation under you would mean the death of everything. And it’s something I intend on never allowing to happen.”

Zuko threw himself at his father, no longer content to sit back and play defense. His blood ran hot in his veins, hotter even than the flames in his hands. His world tipped and rolled when Zhao stuck his leg out and tripped him. The tight quarters of the rookery were playing against him, especially against two foes. 

Again Zuko was pulled back to his feet, but this time he was shoved against the low sill of the window, his back to the open air. His own father held him by the front of his robes. An idle thought crossed through Zuko’s mind; at least he _hadn’t_ changed. Li and Lo would have killed him themselves if he had gotten the ceremonial outfit as dirty and rumpled as this one was. 

Reality crashed in as Zuko took in the rage and venom in his father’s eyes. “Enough, boy,” Ozai spat. “Enough.”

Zuko gripped the edge of the sill with his hands. Ozai was holding him half out of the tower and the dizzying height clawed at the edges of Zuko’s vision. “What now?” Zuko replied. From over Ozai’s shoulder, even Zhao looked surprisingly uncertain. 

Ozai tugged on the golden flame set into Zuko’s hair, plucking it out with a rough hand. “Simple,” his father said. “If Iroh is so intent to name my son as heir rather than letting the natural order remain, then I must have no son.” 

And then he pushed.

* * *

Throughout the whole evolution of the war during Katara’s life, she thought that she had seen all the worst sorts of tragedies in the world. What greater tragedy could have been than those of empty seats at the table or the horrifying trauma that those who did make it back bore on their minds? Countless others had the same history that Katara had where their parents were torn from them by the armored gloves of the Fire Nation. 

Yet there was some unique flavor of agony that twisted Katara’s heart as she ascended the last steps of the rookery to witness a father push his son to his death for the sake of a title, a chair, a crown. 

She screamed louder than the hawks around them and _pulled_ with her hands. She could feel the pulse of the three men in the rookery in her fingers, and now Katara had them gathered together in her palms. Her will moved through her, through their blood, and froze each of them in place. 

Katara shuddered, nausea and disgust rising like a wave in her. But she didn’t stop. She weaved her control over Ozai and made the father twist his hand once more in his son’s tunic with a firm grip. And then he pulled back, letting Zuko’s feet rest again on the solid wood of the platform. 

One body was released and Zuko shoved away from his father, scurrying over to Katara. “It’s okay,” he insisted. “It’s okay. You can let them go.” She heard his words. They made sense. But Katara couldn’t separate herself from the singing of their blood. 

Her gift was meant to heal, to defend, to construct beautiful snow and ice buildings like the Northern Tribe members had shown her over the past years. But here, all Katara could feel was the pain and anger that had surged within her heart when she saw Ozai try to kill her betrothed, his own son. 

The steps behind her shook as pairs of booted feet surged along. Katara remained locked in place, shaking breaths somehow escaping through what otherwise felt like paralysis. “Katara,” Zuko insisted firmly. “Let them go. You’re hurting yourself.”

Was that true? Katara couldn’t tell. She didn’t trust them to let go. This was something she could control. She could keep them from hurting Zuko, from taking the throne and destroying the tiny, fragile peace that was on her and Zuko’s shoulders to maintain. 

Soldiers flooded the platform in deep reds and bright blues. Both nations working together lashed the hands of both men with thick cords. Katara sucked in another tense breath and dared to look at Zuko. He looked terrified, his hands on her shoulders. “Let go, please,” he repeated. 

So she did. 

* * *

Within the relative quiet of the tall grass gardens in the center of the Fire Lord’s personal garden, Zuko stood with Katara in front of one of the Fire Sages. She had been escorted in by her father, a man who held her arm with such tenderness while still ensuring that she did not waver on a single flagstone. She had recovered quickly enough from the bending she had done but the fading day’s heat was clearly sapping at her energy. She had assured Zuko when they had spoken briefly after the commotion had gotten under control that she would feel much better when the sun finished setting. 

The ceremony was still on, though the hoards of people had been turned away save for a select few. Azula stood firmly by Zuko’s side, her expression still sour from when she had heard the news of their father. Next to her was, of course, the Fire Lord himself. On Katara’s side there were only two people as well; her father and her brother who was clearly blinking his way through misty eyes. 

The Fire Sage smiled pleasantly at the couple, calling to order the small crowd with a soothing, practiced voice. These were words repeated hundreds of times for hundreds of couples before, and they carried with them the assurance of normality after such a stressful lead up to this moment.

Zuko had feared that Katara would have walked away after what happened. Clearly there was danger here in the Fire Nation as she had realized. Yet she seemed when they spoke - briefly though it was - as though she was even further determined that this meant she needed to stay. 

“If having you as their next leader terrifies them, then that must be good for us all,” she said. Zuko recalled the words with a warm feeling, stealing a glance at her as they listened to the sage’s readings. 

When the sage asked them each to raise a hand, it was Zuko’s turn to gently squeeze them together. She smiled at the corner of her mouth, the movement widening as the sage spoke and wrapped a loose, white band of silk around their hands and wrists in those same practiced, determined motions. 

“Bound together, you are now one. What one does is for the sake of the other. One cannot thrive without the other’s success,” the sage said with finality. He clapped his hands together and looked out to the small gathering around them. 

“Let the same be said about both of these great nations,” he said. Zuko exhaled slowly, the weight of his words present. “What one does shall be for the sake of the other. One nation, one tribe, cannot thrive without the other’s continued success in equal measure.” 

He expected it to feel overwhelming, a pressure that surely he couldn’t rise to. But instead it seemed… expected. Not easy, but achievable. Katara’s hand remained warm around his, a comforting presence. 

Between the two of them, surely they could stand up to the expectations. They would be able to keep the peace and help both nations moving forward with one another. Zuko turned to look at Katara and he held her eyes with his. Maybe this wasn’t the time or maybe it was. The Fire Sage had broken from tradition with his commentary on their nations joining together now. 

“This is not just my life or your life, from now on,” Zuko said with a confidence he was certain would not have been there this morning. “But it’s us, our life, from today and now on.”

Katara rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “From today and now on,” she agreed.


End file.
